Power Outage

This is one of my personal favorites out of all the poems I've written. Please feel free to rate and comment, and if you don't like this poem, please leave a quick comment letting me know what you might change about it so I can take your suggestion into account for future writing. Thank you!

His power is out.

He sits in the darkness, Lamborghinis flashing past under orange streetlamps, wealth that’s not his own

as the lightning comes closer he clenches his fists, knuckles hard and pale.

His power is out and he sits alone, eyes large and shining, feral.

gulping air with difficulty he never meant never meant… he never meant what they thought; maybe he ought to explain…

but they’d never listen because his power is out

and if he can’t even keep his own power on what’s to say he won’t take other’s power because he can? because he needs to see in this pitch-thick dark that coats his clenched fists and panics his even breath? What’s to say?

The thunder speaks low, rumbling in his chest until he sees lights in the neighbors’ windows, flickering.

His power is out.

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